For Melene96 - thanks for the inspiration.

Birds, Bees, Boys, Girls, and Dead Squirrels

Saturdays were the best days, in Kit Walker's opinion. He was off work, for one thing. No greasy transmissions, dusty brakes, or stubborn oil filters. No complaining, impatient, entitled customers. Fucking glorious. For second thing, his kids were home from school, and they were always a joy. Quick to laugh. They kept him busy. No time to dwell on...past stuff. For third thing: Jude.

He couldn't explain it. The last few weeks had been amazing. She was just so much better. Whatever weird shit had gone down with Thomas and Julia that day… Well, it didn't matter. Because what had been given to them was this strong, loving, vivacious, smart, funny, altogether incredible woman. Plus, she could cook.

In fact, he was watching her cook now. Watching her teach his son to cook, actually. Pancakes. The sight of Thomas standing on that stool, whisk in a giant bowl, his sister on tiptoes offering 'helpful advice' was the best way to start a day.

"Look here, Thomas. Loosen up yar grip on that whisk. It's not gonna sprout legs and run off." Jude corrected his little fingers and Julia snorted laughter, which blew a generous plume of flour all over Thomas and Jude.

"Dammit, Julia!" Thomas admonished.

Jude cuffed him lightly. "Watch yar mouth! Yar father will find out where ya learned that language and I'll be out on the street." She lifted her skirt, shaking flour onto the already well-floured rug and Kit's smile screwed up a little.

For fourth thing: Jude's legs.

He rubbed his face. He had to stop looking at her that way. It was getting ridiculous. Jude was… Sister Jude. She was a nun, once. She was like the favorite aunt who'd come to stay. She washed his underwear, for Christ's sake. And mended his clothes. Fed his kids. Doctored all the boo boos (his and the kids'). Hell, on Wednesday, she'd fixed the chunk of broken lattice on the front porch.

He needed to remember to think of her those ways. Not...sex ways. Not legs, tits, hips, and that mane of curly gold hair. Not coy grins and flirty pokes in his belly. Not 'accidentally' peeking through the crack in her bedroom door and using the reflection from the dresser's mirror to 'accidentally' see through the crack in the bathroom door while she toweled off after her bath.

Cuz that was all just...wrong.

He rubbed at his face, looked up at Julia's sudden burst of laughter. Jude was smiling patiently, wiping wet batter from her face and cleavage. Thomas was red-faced and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Jude."

She took the whisk, kissed the boy's forehead. "Its alright, sweetheart." She passed Julia the whisk. "Let's let yar sister have a turn, huh? I'm uh...going to change. Kit?"

He waved at her from the table. "I got this."

"Uh-huh." She ruffled his hair as she passed. He watched her sway into her room.

"Dad! Look how thick it is now!"

"Oh, yeah! Julia that's...um…." He rose to inspect the bowl. "That might be too thick, there." The batter was now a sludge.

"I thought it was too runny." Julia smacked the goop. It barely moved.

"I told you it's s'posed to be thin," Thomas groused over the counter edge.

"Shut up, Thomas!"

"Hey! Don't tell yer brother ta shut up." Kit rubbed the girl's head. "That's not nice."

"He called me turd monkey yesterday!" Julia defended. "And that's not nice either!"

"Well, no it's not." Kit turned to his son. "Thomas, did ya call yer sister turd monkey?"

Thomas nodded slowly, lip brushing the counter edge. "Now why would ya do that?" Kit knelt between the two children. "You two gotta watch out fer each other. Brothers and sisters do that, right?"

"I guess so." Julia shrugged.

"She called me shitass." Thomas pointed at Julia.

"Tattletale!" She accused.

Kit had to laugh. Let his forehead fall against the stove. "Jesus, you two." He grabbed both of them to him. "You both tattled on each other. So we're even, right?"

Jude appeared behind them with kisses on three heads. "Whose tattling in here?"

"Children are calling each other bad names, apparently." Kit caught a whiff of Jude's perfume as she straightened to inspect the pancake batter. He watched her lips work to contain her humor.

"Bad names?" She asked, pouring some water into the mix. "Like what?"

"Like turd monkey." Julia groused, peeking into the bowl as Jude whisked.

"Turd monkey?!" Jude laughed. "That's a new one. Set the table, Julia."

"She called me shitass."

"Did she?" Jude looked down at Thomas. "Thomas, wash these dishes up. Yar both developing quite the repertoire of dirty words, aren't ya?" The children nodded. "Ya wanna learn some new ones?"

Kit overrode their excited affirmative shouts. "Jude -"

"Kit, get the fry pan." She overrode him, pressing a stick of butter into his extended hand. "And heat up a pat of this."

"So." She pulled juice from the fridge. "One of my favorites is asshat."

"Asshat!" The children chorused, giggling.

"I find it a little more creative than 'asshole.' Aaaand then there's shit far brains." At their laughter, she turned from the stove. "That's considered one curse, by the way. Kind of...runs togethah."

"Jesus Christ," Kit muttered, watching butter sizzle.

"That one is far special occasions only," Jude stressed, pointing the spatula at Kit. "Because it's technically a prayer far strength." She prepared to pour pancake batter into the pan. "So technically, you'd say something like 'Jesus Christ, what an asshat!'"

Kit strained to hold in his laughter. His children were in paroxysms. He found himself getting into the spirit of things. "Hey, what about good old fashioned shithead?"

"That's sort of like shit far brains," Jude clarified. "But you could substitute dickhead."

"True, true," Kit nodded.

"What's a dickhead?" Julia asked.

Kit and Jude caught eyes. "Um…" She began.

"Dick is another word for...er...penis." Kit saved her.

"Ohhhh." Thomas thought a moment. "Like saying you have a penis for a head?"

"Right." Jude pragmatically flipped pancakes. "Alright, let's get ready ta eat! Kit, grab the syrup, will ya?"

At the table, mouths and hearts filled. "Kids, ya did a good job helping Jude with these pancakes."

"Thank you, daddy!" Julia tilted her head onto Kit's arm. "I did most of the mixing."

"Hey!" Thomas defended his mixing.

"Ya both did equal mixing." Jude shut down a potential conflagration succinctly. "And these are the most delicious pancakes I've evah had."

"I agree." Kit grinned. "Much better than the first time I evah tried to make pancakes. You two wouldn't remembah that cuz you were just babies then."

"Did you make a mess?" Julia asked.

"Yep. And caught a towel on fire." He laughed, remembering. "Thomas, yer mom was laughing so hard she could barely help me put it out."

"What did my mom do?" Julia asked, eyes shining.

"Well, she was outside, I think." Kit paused, thinking. "Yeah! But she smelled smoke and came running in. You shoulda seen her face! She was so mad." He shook his head. A little sadness crept into the happy memory.

Jude shut that down, too. "But how were the pancakes?"

They sputtered laughter. Orange juice came out of Thomas' nose and Julia pointed at him. "Gross!"

"You're gross!"

"Yar both gross." Julia slapped another pancake onto Kit's plate. "Children are inherently gross. With their snotty noses and dirty little grubby hands." She held one of Julia's sticky hands up as example, but kissed it. "I don't know why I like ya so much, honestly." A wink at Thomas.

"Do you have any babies, Jude?" Such an innocuous question from Julia.

"Ah…" She froze, reaching for her juice. "Um. No. I never did have any babies." She swallowed thickly. Kit watched her, cautious. "But I didn't need to, right? I have you two now!"

"Did you not want any babies?" Thomas asked.

Jude cleared her throat. "Well. I just didn't really have time is all." She hoped to put an end to this particular conversation.

Kit helped her out. Or so he thought. "See? Babies take a lot of time. And if you're a busy person, ya might not be able ta squeeze 'em in."

"It doesn't take a long time." Julia argued innocently. "You just have sex and babies come out of your belly later."

Jude's fork hit her plate loudly. "Julia, this isn't appropriate breakfast conversation." Her eyes cut accusingly to Kit, a question in them.

He shrugged. "They asked!"

"Did you not have the sex?" Thomas grilled her further.

Kit put a hand on his shoulder. "Son -"

"I said this isn't appropriate breakfast conversation!" Jude snapped, very red in the face.

"Should we wait until dinner?" Julia asked.

"We're not going to talk about this at all!" Jude sounded slightly panicked.

"I don't understand." Thomas shook his head. "Dad said it was okay to talk about where babies come from as long as it's with your mom or dad. And dad's right here!"

"But I'm not yar mother." Jude put said to it. "So let's change the subject, huh?"

"Pass the butter, please." Kit gestured. He could tell Jude was annoyed. Expected a conversation with her later.

"You could have some babies now, Jude." Thomas reassured.

Jude couldn't have been more done with this conversation. But Kit was enjoying her discomfort. "Yeah, Jude. You could have a couple babies now. You got time."

"And we'll help!" Thomas promised.

"Look at that." Kit slapped his knees, satisfied. "Two nannies right here, Jude. Fer the babies yer gonna have."

"Shut up, Kit." She made a cutting gesture at her throat.

"When you and Daddy have sex -"

"Jesus Christ, Julia!" Jude interrupted that train of thought almost violently, nearly overturning her juice. "I am not...having sex with yar father." She was brightly flushed. Kit thought it was terribly sexy. "Kit?"

"Hm?" He took in her manic eyes casually.

"Explain to yar children what -"

"Dad said when two people love each other, they have sex and then the babies." Julia smoothly talked over Jude's protestations. "And you and daddy love each other, so..."

Now Kit took up the reigns. He could see Jude struggling to maintain her self-control. "Jude and I...like each other...a different way." He didn't say the word love. He wasn't sure if he should, although he was quite certain how he felt.

"Exactly." Jude sighed relief. "Now. Let's...move on."

"I'm gonna have babies," Julia announced. "Three of them!"

"They'll be beautiful babies." Jude patted Julia's head.

"Wow!" Thomas' eyes widened. "You're gonna have to have sex three times!"

"Nah-ah!" Julia shook her head. "I'm gonna have all three at once, asshat." She stuck her tongue out at her brother victoriously.

Jude let her face fall in her hand, hiding amusement. Kit stepped up to the plate again. "It doesn't exactly work that way, Julia." He sighed. "Let's table this discussion for later, kay?"

"But we're at the table now," Thomas pointed out.

"Can't argue that," Jude muttered.

"Bridget Moore had two babies at once." Julia explained. "Very convenient."

"Very," Jude agreed, staring at Kit. Her smirk said 'weasel your way out of this one.' It was clearly his turn to suffer.

"Well, that's twins." Kit said. Frustration was bleeding in. His children were so damned smart sometimes… "It's a little different."

"Bet she still had the sex two times." Thomas said. Julia huffed in reply. Thomas continued, forehead creased. "Did the babies come out stuck together? Or by themselfs?"

"Themselves," Jude corrected. "And they come out separately." She shrugged, chewing pancake. "Usually."

"I bet that hurts the penis." Thomas winced.

"Ladies have a ragina." Julia reminded, much to Jude's painful embarrassment. "Remember? Cuz the penis goes in it." She suddenly looked at Jude. "Which hole does the penis go in, Jude? There's three down there!"

Jude spread her hands, completely discomforted. "Julia -"

"But dad said the babies come out the penis and go into the ragina. Right, dad?" Thomas looked at Kit expectantly.

"You know what?" Kit folded his arms, ready to end this entire breakfast. "I'll tell you two what. I think we need a little more explanation on this whole issue. And maybe you two aren't quite -"

"Sparms!" Julia snapped her fingers, remembering suddenly. Jude startled beside her. "It's the sparms that come out the penis and fly up the ragina!"

"Ohhhh, yeah!" Thomas slapped his forehead. "That's right! And they're tiny. Dad? How many sparms live in my penis?"

Jude began clearing the table, seeing that eating was obviously complete. She patted Kit's shoulder sympathetically. "Thomas. It's sperm." Kit stressed. "And trust me. A lot live in there. Julia. It's vagina. Not ragina. Got it?"

Julia nodded. "Got it."

"Does the penis hurt the lady when it goes in the vagina?" Thomas asked, genuinely concerned.

Julia gasped, also concerned. She whipped in her chair, addressing Jude at the sink. "Does the penis hurt in the vagina, Jude?"

"Oh, Christ," Kit murmured. "Kids -"

"Yes." Jude turned from the sink, leaning on her elbows. "It's absolutely dreadful." Julia's face portrayed her mortification and Kit scrambled for damage control. "Until…" Jude continued, a finger raised. "Yar at least 20. Then, it feels very nice. So. That's why you shouldn't have sex until you're at least 20 years old and with a nice man who recognizes yar value as a person, treats ya with respect, and understands yar still an independent, intelligent woman who doesn't need a damn thing from him. Understood?"

Julia smiled. "I understand."

Kit nodded, brows raised, ultimately happy with Jude's response. In fact, he felt greatly relieved. Thomas crushed his vibe entirely.

"But...does the vagina hurt the penis when it goes in?"

"Not after you're twenty!" Kit supplied happily. "And with a nice woman who respects herself as much as you, and is strong and confident on her own."

"Cooool." Thomas breathed. "I'd like that."

Kit toasted his son with his juice. "It's very nice."

"But can she still be pretty?"

"If you're lucky." Kit nodded.

"Pretty like Jude?"

"If you're really lucky." Kit winked.

Jude tisked, blushing hotly. "Ya know? It's not always about appearances."

"As long as he's tall, I don't care," Julia said. She kicked the stool over to the sink, keen to help Jude with dishes.

Jude chuckled, kissing the girl's head. "I like 'em tall, too," she whispered.

"I have a good idea." Kit stood from the table, lifting a giggling Thomas onto his shoulders. "Let's go for a walk. Save these dishes fer later." He didn't think Jude had ever looked more relieved to get out of the kitchen.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was peeking through light gray clouds, promising a light rain later on. Dew was beginning to dry on the grass, wetting Jude's white ballet flats. The kids ran ahead occasionally, snatching up and blowing dandelions. Through the fence around the Walker property they hit the trail for the woods.

Kit and Jude watched the children quietly, content to smile at the antics. "I'll race you to the brook," Julia shouted, already taking off at a trot.

"Cheater!" Thomas yelled, gaining on her quickly.

At the edge of the woods, Jude picked up a felled stick, picking leaves from it. Kit bent for a stick of his own and yelped when Jude swatted him on the ass. He had a brief flashback to Briarcliff. "What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his butt. It hadn't hurt, really…

"I can't believe you've already told these babies about the birds and the bees!" She hissed at him. "They're completely confused!"

"I'm not gonna lie ta my kids, Jude. They're smart. They can handle the truth. And what they don't understand, they'll ask me about. That's how I want them ta grow up."

She rolled her eyes, cast the stick aside. "Ya coulda just stuck to the stork story."

"Ridiculous. They've never seen a stork in their lives. They see their penis and vagina every day."

"It's traumatic!" Jude argued with him. He liked it when she argued with him. "Now they're scared it hurts!"

"Well, it does hurt. At least the first time. For the girl, anyway. At least that's what I've always heard."

She tisked, looking away. Leaned against a spreading oak. "It's not that bad."

Kit's eyes widened at her. "Oh, really?" He couldn't have contained his curiosity or surprise if he'd wanted to. "At least, not after yer twenty, right?"

"You'll thank me far that, later." She insisted.

"So." He leaned against the tree beside her. His children's laughter echoed in the distance. "You um…"

"I wasn't always a nun."

"Oh."

"Let's leave it at that."

"Okay." He nodded. But he couldn't really leave it. "Were you - I mean, were you married or…"

"No." She started walking again, looking at the ground. Kicking at mushrooms. "Almost."

He followed her slowly, sensing she wanted some space. "I'm sorry."

"No need." She shrugged. "Wasn't meant ta be."

Such a mystery Jude was. Not that he worried about such things. She was who she was, and she was loved by his children. Loved by him. Didn't matter. If he could forgive her for Briarcliff, he could forgive her anything, he supposed. Besides, this seemed a sore spot anyway. And he really should have left it. "Did he - did he hurt ya, Jude?"

"Yeah, Kit." She stopped suddenly, turning to him. "He hurt me badly. And I'll be damned if that evah happens to Julia. Or Thomas. I want them to be comfortable knowing they don't need another person to rely on. That they can always count on themselves. That they can be alone. Because I hate being alone. Always did. And that feeling made me weak."

"It's not weak ta want love, Jude." He stepped into her space. "Hell, I don't like being alone, either."

"There's a difference between love and feeling like ya need a person to exist." She specified.

Her voice quavered a little.

Kit studied her, the creases deepening by her deep brown eyes. The tremble in her pouty lip. How her chin raised. Something clicked into place. "Who hurt you, Jude? Not just the guy you almost married. Somebody really did a number on ya." He stroked her cheek and she flinched away.

"Leave it." She turned from him. "Let's find the kids."

"Jude…" But the mystery swayed away from him, arms crossed protectively across herself.

They came upon Thomas and Julia kneeling quietly in a clearing near the stream. Quite unlike his usually chatty children. They were studying something on the ground. "Hey." Kit stood over them, peeking. "What'd you guys find?"

They looked up, and Jude loosed a little gasp, hand covering her mouth. "Oh…" She whispered.

"It's dying, I think." Julia said. Her eyes glimmered, wet as the evaporating dew. "Can we save it?"

And he saw. A squirrel. Grey and shivering, barely breathing. Its bushy tail occasionally jerked and its eyes seemed to recognize no fear. "Aw, baby." He knelt between them, hugging them both. "I don't think we can. He seems pretty far gone."

"Maybe if we take him to the hospital," Thomas suggested.

"I don't think he'd make it." Kit said sadly. "The squirrel hospital is pretty far away."

"What if we pray?" Julia's desperate eyes turned to Jude. "Jude, what if we pray?"

At Jude's lack of response, Kit looked up. She stood frozen, eyes latched on the squirrel, hand still over her mouth. Something else in the mystery shimmered a little. He reached up slowly, hesitantly, stroked her elbow. "Jude…" She blinked, coming to realize something was expected, and dropped to her knees beside him as if she was suddenly too heavy to stand.

"We'll all pray for him to get better." Julia bowed her head.

"Oh, sweetheart." Jude stroked Julia's bowed head so tenderly. Stroked down the girl's wet cheek and tilted her chin up. "Even praying won't save him." Kit was surprised to hear this from Jude. He knew her to still pray occasionally, would often catch her kneeling, rising, or simply bowing her head. He respected those moments. Never told her he'd seen it. He was stunned she would speak against God this way. But then, she spoke further, quiet and serene. "When God is ready to take a soul, He takes it. That's His will. He wants that soul because it's good, and deserves to be with God. He won't change his mind. But...we can pray for this little guy's soul to go peacefully. D'ya think? To find its way ta Heaven quickly?"

Julia nodded, bowed her head again. Jude and Thomas joined her. Kit bowed a bit later, something like wonder at this moment making him stare. They prayed quietly. He could hear Julia and Thomas whispering, but only barely. He felt Jude's hand at his thigh, seeking out his own. He took hold of it and returned the strong, emotional grip. His daughter's little hand slipped into his other one. It was warm and sticky, a stark contrast to Jude's cool, soft fingers.

How long did they stay that way? Knelt in the clearing by the brook? Whispering over a dying creature? It was some time before Jude murmured, "Amen." Heads rose. Eyes opened. But their hands remained joined. And when they looked down, the gray squirrel was still. Its eyes were closed, and it curled as if it was simply sleeping. No more shudders wracked its body. No more jerks or gasping breaths.

"It worked!" Thomas breathed.

Julia nodded, her eyes met Jude's. Kit watched them closely. "God didn't let him suffer," Julia said.

"No, he didn't," Jude agreed.

"Will God always take away our pain?"

Brown eyes blinked at brown eyes. "Oh, Julia." Jude's lashes fluttered, letting loose a tear. "He...He may not always answer our prayers the way we expect. But he will answer. Sometimes we just have ta be patient."

Julia nodded solemnly and, seeing it was needed, launched herself into Jude's lap. Their arms were tight around each other and Jude buried her face in the child's thick, soft curls. "Thank you, Jude."

Kit rubbed Julia's back, pulling Thomas to his own arms. "You guys okay?" He asked.

Thomas nodded, pulling away. "We should bury it."

Julia turned in Jude's lap. "I'll help."

"Let's find a stick to dig a hole!" Thomas was off, and Julia followed.

Kit stared at Jude. Jude stared at the squirrel. "Hey." He touched her shoulder, the strap there slipping. "You alright?"

She took a deep breath and stood. "I have ta pee."

He watched her walk quickly back toward the house. Considered following, but a hole was being dug. And there was a squirrel to go in it.

The kids recovered quickly from their grief over the squirrel. They were distracted on their way home when the neighbor kids called out across the fence. Went off to play at the Whaley's house. Kit watched them go, waving, and then went in to check on Jude.

He'd expected to see her doing dishes. But she wasn't in the kitchen. "Jude?" He called softly.

Her door was open, so he peered inside, knocking on the frame. "You decent?" But she wasn't there, either. Her bathroom door was closed, though. And he heard quite clearly sobbing behind it. "Jude," he whispered.

Did he knock? Call out to her? He chewed his lip, considering. Pressed his forehead to the wood. "Jude."

"I'm fine, Kit!" But her voice was choked with tears.

"No, you're not. Come on out."

"I'll be out in a minute."

Water ran in the sink. He took hold of the door knob. "I'm coming in."

"No!" But he came in. "Dammit, Kit!" She scrambled for the rag in the sink, covering her face.

"Jude." He took hold of her shoulders. "Look at me."

"Let me go."

"Goddamit, look at me!" He twisted her, tugging at her arms. She looked like Hell. Face puffy and red. Eyes bloodshot. She'd been sobbing. He softened immediately. "Judy…" Pulled her against him into a hard, unforgiving hug. He never called her Judy. Knew it was her real name. But she'd been Jude to him for so long, he couldn't equate her to Judy. But this - this was Judy, tense in his arms, strong hands against his chest. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Don't do this." She wriggled to extract herself from his embrace, but was confined by the small bathroom.

"Lemme just hold ya." He strengthened his grip. "Tell me what he did - all those years ago. Who he was. Talk ta me, Judy."

"Don't call me that!" She struggled, bumped into the sink, trapped between him and the porcelain. "Kit, let me go!" Her voice sounded slightly panicked, slightly frightened.

"Jude!" He took her head in his hands, forcing her to face him. "Calm down. You know I'd nevah hurt ya." Her hands slapped his fingers away from her head and when she bolted, he grabbed her waist. "Hey! Listen ta me!" He nearly lost footing against the clawfoot tub, stumbled, and took her with him - accidentally slamming the bathroom door and pressing her against it. They oofed together and he felt Jude begin to crumble, sobbing.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" She asked. Her hands slapped the bathroom door. She surrendered, it seemed - pressing her forehead to the cool wood while she cried. "Why does it matter? Any of it? Let it go, Kit, please…"

He didn't let go of her. Wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and pressed his own forehead into her soft hair. "Jude. I brought ya inta my home. You are alone with my kids. You -"

She whirled, upsetting his embrace, furious at the implication. "I would nevah hurt those babies! How dare you -"

"I'm not accusing you of that, Jude! Even yer first days here, even when it was bad, you couldn't help that. I know that. The point I'm tryna make is that I brought you here not knowing a goddamn thing about you. Not really. And even after all that hell in the beginning, Jude, yer still here. I think I deserve ta know -"

"Know what?!" She demanded. "Every sordid, disgusting aspect of my past? You don't wanna know that, Kit. I promise ya." Tears covered her face. One dripped off her nose. She shook. "You wouldn't want that woman in yar house. And I'm not her anymore, I promise."

"Jude. You will never leave this house. Or me. You understand?"

"Then why?! Why bring up the past? Kit, let's both let go of those things! We both have -"

"I wanna know you, Jude!" He interrupted her, taking sharp hold of her arms.

"And I wanna know why! Why you give a fuck about -"

"Because I love you!" He shouted, let his own tears break. "I love ya, Jude." He finished weakly. Seeing her shock, he let go her arms. But as soon as she was free she turned away, sought escape, scrambled for the bathroom door handle. He grabbed her again, trying to make her face him. "Dammit, woman!"

"Stop!" She slapped at his hands. He defended, trying to get a grip on a wrist, an arm, a hand. "Kit, I said quit this! Don't make me -"

"Make you what?" He'd managed to get one arm, pulled her close to him. Their muscles tightened. "You gonna beat the hell out of me fer loving you? Jude, calm down!"

"Stop telling me ta calm down!" She growled loudly when he managed to pull her other arm taut between them. "Ow! Yar hurting me!"

"I'm sorry!" He gasped. And he was - sorry for pressing her so hard, sorry for hurting her arm, sorry for making her cry, sorry for arcing his mouth across hers and hushing her with a violent kiss.

She was sudden stone in his arms. Her lips were salty. But her mouth was hot. He loosened his hold, slid hands down soft arms, felt her relaxing. She was softening. She was kissing him back. When her arms slipped from his weakened grip, they went round his neck. He returned the embrace, lost to some momentary insanity, some powerful magnetic force. She was solid in his arms. Full and filling a hole he'd ignored for some time now.

And perhaps she had that same hole - the simple gaping missing something. Needing, wanting. Feeling returning where there had been numbness before. His body was on fire. His fingertips tingled where they touched her skin and they were touching her skin, tugging at dress, hiking skirt. Did it button? He couldn't think clearly and she clearly wasn't thinking, curling a smooth creamy leg up his hip and devil fingernails scratching at his nape. He needed her undressed. He needed her beneath him, atop him. Needed her wrapped around him like a glove. Just needed her.

Fingers slipped underneath his shirt. Curled around the waist of his jeans. He hissed, breaking their kiss, attacking her neck.

"Kit, what are we doin?" She asked breathless.

"Birds and bees," he muttered, mindless against her pulse.

"Oh."

"Take this off." There were buttons on the dress. She reached for them, shaking, and he tugged his tee over his head. Back to kissing. He opened the bathroom door, pulling her with him as she struggled one arm free of the strappy sundress. Her legs hit her bed and she sat, biting lips as she unbuttoned his pants. "Jude…" He stroked her hair, leaned to kiss her again.

"Dad!"

"Jude! Daddy!"

They froze. Her eyes wide on his. "Fuck," he muttered. "Kids! Hold on! I'm comin'!" Turned frantically. "Where the hell is my shirt?"

Jude darted into the bathroom, retrieving his shirt from the floor and casting it at him before slamming the door behind herself. "Daddy?" Julia appeared in the doorway just as he tugged his tee over his unzipped fly.

"Hey, sweetheart!" His heart hammered in his chest. "What's um - what's up?"

The girl's inquisitive eyes narrowed slightly and her brother appeared behind her. "Are you okay, daddy?"

He attempted to sleek his hair a bit. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm - I'm great."

The eyes slid to the bathroom. "Is Jude alright?"

"Yeah, Julia. Jude's...Jude is fine." He walked them out of the bedroom, hands shaking on heads. "I needed - Jude - needed...me...ta fix the uh - the toilet."

"Gross," Thomas scowled.

"Yeah, it was uh - it was." He cleared his throat, opening the refrigerator as a shield for zipping up. "What's going on? How are the Whaleys?"

"Can we stay over there tonight?" Thomas asked. "Pleeease? They got a puppy!"

"A puppy?"

"Daddy! It's sooooo cuuuuuuuuuute!" Julia wailed. "Can we stay over tonight and play with it? Mrs. Whaley invited us to eat and stay after! I promise!"

Jude appeared in the kitchen doorway, exhibiting remarkable sangfroid. He might not have suspected she was a woman just earlier in the grip of untempered lust. "Did I hear that Mrs. Whaley is cooking a puppy far dinner?"

"Nooo!" The kids laughed, coming to beg Jude for puppy visitation rights. They knew well enough that a yes from Jude would mean a yes from their father. "Can we stay there tonight and see the puppy? Please!"

Jude locked eyes with Kit, coming to stand on the other side of the refrigerator door. "Yar children want to stay with the Whaleys tonight after dinner." She placed her hand alongside his on the fridge door. Her pinky stroked his thumb.

Kit's nostrils flared. "I heard."

"D'you suppose we should let them?"

"Hmmmm." He looked at the children, crossing their fingers and grinning. "I don't know. They have awfully foul mouths."

"True." She looked at the children, too, now nearly melting into the floorboards with excitement. "They'd have ta promise ta control their profane proclivities."

"What does that mean?" Thomas asked.

"Don't say fuck." Jude explained succinctly.

"Or shit." Kit added. "None of that."

"We promise we won't have brocolivities!" Julia enthused.

"Well, then." Kit stared at Jude. "I guess you can stay the night with the new puppy." They squealed excitement and commenced running around the living room. "Hey! Take it outside!" Kit pointed to the back door. It slammed amidst peals of laughter and shouting. Kit and Jude continued staring at each other. He could see her chest rising and falling fast still, the thin sheen of sweat belying her cool demeanor. He wiped his top lip.

"Why are ya standing in the refrigerator?" Jude asked quietly.

"I was hot."

"Oh."

"Jude."

"What?"

But he didn't have words, really. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

"Here." She gestured, moving him from his refrigerator stronghold. "I'm uh - gonna fix up some lunch and start this roast far dinner latah."

"Yeah." He stepped aside, rubbed the back of his neck. "You okay?"

She busied herself at the stove. "I'm fine." But she was shaking a little.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean ta -"

"You didn't mean ta kiss me?" She stilled, knife frozen in a cheese wedge.

"No!" He spoke quickly. "I mean...I didn't mean to do it like that, I guess. And I didn't mean ta hurt you."

"You didn't really hurt me." She resumed cutting cheese.

"Oh. Good."

"God, Kit." She pressed fingers to her temples, finally releasing a breath she'd been holding. "What if they'd walked in on…" An airy gesture. A hot flush on her round cheeks.

"Or what if they hadn't come back at all?" He asked in return.

Jude chuffed. "I guess you'd be apologizing far more than a kiss right now."

"I wouldn't apologize for anything that might happen between us." He stroked gently down the back of her arm. Watched gooseflesh rise there. "I don't regret kissing you. I wouldn't have regretted...more than kissing you."

She cut cheese quietly. Outside, Julia and Thomas laughed, playing hopscotch in the dirt. Her jaw worked. He could see the muscles moving under the skin. "After the kids are gone tonight, we'll talk."

"Talk." He repeated.

She laid cheese slices onto bread slices. Turned to face him. "Talk. Now, go tell the babies I'm makin' grilled cheeses."

They ate lunch quietly compared to breakfast. Thomas and Julia chewed and swung their legs at the table, seeming somehow knowledgeable that the caregivers were subdued. Julia had a habit of squeezing her grilled cheese until the cheese oozed from the sandwich, then nibbling the cheese. Thomas picked off his toasty crust, devouring it before working his way methodically around the rest of the delicacy.

A blanket of anticipation hung over the table, muffling children chewing sounds like a snow bank. The children - excited to adventure with friends and puppies and the innocent joy of life. Kit and Jude - alternating dread cycles toward the coming reckoning, a conversation to doom or free, and...whatever else might happen.

But children being children and joy winning the afternoon, Thomas cleared his throat. "Can we play a game?"

"That's a great idea!" If he sounded too enthusiastic, it was because Kit was beyond relieved that the silence had been cut. That a distraction had been proposed. That he could momentarily forget what she'd felt like pressed against him, all heat and curves; that her fingers had stroked his cock and stoked a dangerous desire; that her mouth had been salty and her breath wanton in his ear; that -

"Scrabble?" Julia loved Scrabble. She was quite the speller.

"No!" Kit and Thomas both negated vehemently. They were also quite the spellers - but bad ones.

"How about Monopoly?" Jude asked, rising to collect plates.

"Bluuuuuhhhh." Julia gave a prolonged, dramatic groan, sinking in her chair. "I always go to jail."

"So don't be a miscreant." Jude made quick work of the dishes. Kit took up drying them.

"Candyland!" Thomas shouted.

"Yeah!" His sister was in agreement.

"Candyland sounds good." Kit was just pleased they were in agreement on something.

A moment darkened - just a moment, though. Jude turned slowly from the sink, eyeing the children. "Ya might wanna think twice befar playin' Candyland with me."

Kit's brows rose. "That sounds exciting, huh?" He gestured to Thomas. "Go get it."

Jude shrugged, maneuvering glasses to make way for the game board. "Fine, then. You'll all rue the day ya fucked with Queen Frostine."

There may never have been a more heated, controversial, defamatory or inflammatory game of Candyland played than Jude and the Walkers enjoyed that day. Even in the Briarcliff common room, Depresso and Gramma Nutt were not subjugated so vehemently. There was no real method to the game, but for Kit's brilliant children, the concept of anarchy was daunting. They faltered and attempted strategies where strategies were impossible. Kit watched Jude own them - and himself - with such relish he wondered if she wasn't somehow altered in her state of mind. Frustrations grew. Two out of three became three out of five became five out of seven. There was backpedaling, hem-hawing, compromising, begging and a few instances of outright tears before it was finally declared that Jude was indeed still reigning Queen of Candyland.

Kit's ass ached from sitting. His belly ached from laughing. He wandered onto the front porch while Jude and the children packed the now thoroughly abused board game away - possibly for eternity. Somehow dusk had started to fall. He leaned against the railing, suspected one or more of the Whaleys would be here soon for Julia and Thomas. And after that, he'd be alone with Jude.

Talking.

The screen door clapped and he turned to see her lighting a cigarette. "That was fun."

"Lessons have been learned."

"Yar damn right." She chuckled and leaned against the railing a few inches away. He faced the yard. She faced the house. "Hm?" She offered him the cigarette she smoked, and when he took it, she lit another.

The waning sunlight silvered her profile prettily. Made her hair a flossy halo. "Who knew Candyland could be such a dangerous place?" He joked, avoiding the heavy in his heart.

"It's a hell hole." She flicked her cigarette, smirking. "Have you evah stopped to consider what might happen to the human psyche in Gumdrop Mountain?"

"No, but I felt threatened in Molasses Swamp fer sure." He flicked, too. "Where are the kids?"

"Packing overnight bags."

"Overnight," he murmured.

"Mmhm." She took a deep breath. Distant laughter signaled the approach of the Whaleys' two youngest children. Jude smiled when she saw them skipping down the path between their houses.

Kit waved. "It was a nice day."

"It was...a day."

"Yep."

"Hey, Mr. Walker!" Jessie Whaley was a bubbly curly haired blonde. "Miss Jude!"

"Jess." Kit nodded at her. "Kyle." He saluted her brother - also known as 'the quiet one.' Kyle rarely spoke, and if he did, it was necessary. "Thomas and Julia are inside."

"And there are cookies wrapped up on the kitchen table." Jude stroked Jessie's hair as they slipped in the house. "Take 'em home ta share."

"Thank you, Miss Jude!"

Inside, there was shouting and laughing. Kit winced when a door slammed. To have such small feet, children produced explosive foot traffic noise. The noise approached quickly, and the adults smiled expectation.

"Dad!" Thomas had a quick hug handy. "We're leaving. There's pizza!"

"Oh, great." Kit was leaning for a kiss, but wasn't fast enough. Thomas had already moved onto Jude, who was in Julia's arms. "Well, enjoy yarselves tonight. And remember ta be good."

"We will be!" Julia rubbed her face against Jude's belly one last time. "And we won't say fuck or shit!"

"Thank God." Jude took one last stroke of Thomas' soft head. They watched the kids tromp down the steps, shouting good-byes and good-nights.

At the very bottom step, Kyle stopped. Turned abruptly toward them. His heavy brow creased over unsettlingly dark eyes. "Cookies," he said firmly. "Thank you." Just as abruptly, he turned and stalked after the others.

Kit shook his head, wondering at the boy. "That - " Jude spoke definitively- "is a murder baby."

He nodded, smiling, unable to argue. He watched his children disappear down the trail. Heard the screen door snick closed and sighed. What the fuck have I done? He let his head hang, elbows on the porch railing. He'd said he had no regrets - would have no regrets - but clearly kissing her and...whatever else he'd done to her was having awkward repercussions.

"What the hell were we thinking?" He whispered to himself. A dandelion bobbed below him. "And what if Julia hadn't…" He trailed off, realizing he was talking to himself. It was obvious, anyway: they would have fucked the shit out of each other. He groaned at the thought, tried to tamp the arousal, the imagery, that came with the knowledge. Hadn't heard the screen door snick again.

"Sooo...no coffee far you?"

He turned to see Jude standing uncertainly just behind him, two mugs in hands. "What?" He took one from her. The black one. She knew how he took it.

A chuckle. "You seemed to be in some sort of pain."

"No, no." He smiled, shrugged off her concern, and leaned on the porch railing. "I'm fine." The coffee was hot. Good. She sat on the porch swing, sipping her own brew thoughtfully. A silence settled and Kit prepared for further, deepening awkwardness. He had no idea how to...talk...about this.

But apparently he didn't need an idea. Jude spoke - confidently if quietly. She didn't look at him. Didn't look at anything, really. Occasionally sipped her coffee. And he didn't interrupt her.

"I was 17. And stupid. So was he. Casey. Few years older than me. So...you know how that goes. We were in love. We thought." A rueful smirk. "More hormones than anything else. But - when our parents found out we were having sex, they made insistances. And Casey asked me ta marry him. And ya have ta understand, Kit. I was just a fuckin' kid. So idealistic and smitten like a kitten. We couldn't even afford rings. I was workin' in a restaurant and sewin' on the side. He worked as a roadie in a jazz band. And that shoulda been my first clue." She rolled her eyes. "A couple weeks before the courthouse - cuz there was certainly not gonna be a wedding - I got sick and uh...I found out it was syphilis. And I knew damn well I didn't get it from the toilet seat. So I told Casey. And I told him he gave it ta me. And of course he denied that. I'm sure that kinda reputation woulda tarnished his otha reputation rather darkly. We fought. He um...he hit me and...I'd nevah been hit befar. I went home broken-hearted, black-eyed and shame-faced. Eating crow. My mothah…" Here, her eyes misted for the first time. "My mothah said 'Judy. Ya dodged a bullet, baby. Take yar medicine and count yar blessings.' But...I had trouble finding the blessings, ya know. Then the doctor told me I wouldn't have babies and that pretty much did me in. And then…" A self-deprecating eye roll. "Ma got sick. Real sick. She died a few months latah. I took care of her as best I could. It was...hard."

Kit came slowly to her side. Sat on the swing. It creaked a bit. He rubbed her back and she continued. "After that, I had ta work. I slung food in a couple restaurants. Still sewed. But...I couldn't afford the house. I was so scared I was gonna be on the street. I prayed on it hard… One of Casey's old friends came round." She grinned. "Nice guy, really. Chuck. He asked if I could sing and I lied that I could. I'd nevah sung a day in my damn life. But bands then - well, half the draw was the singer and it rarely involved talent. Ya get me?" He got her, nodding. They laughed together. "Believe it or not, I was a looker back then. But come ta find out - I wasn't half bad. So. Next thing I knew - I was singing in a jazz band." She shook her head. "Good times. At first. I liked drinking. And I certainly liked the attention. I always liked the fellahs, and...I enjoyed sex. Although, I think in hindsight, I substituted it far affection. In fact, I'm sure that's what it was." She sighed. Set her empty mug on the railing. "Then I discovered I was a bit of a commodity. They would...pay far it. Ya know? Far me."

She swallowed thickly and her face flushed. Kit could tell this was the sorest spot. "So. I was a whore, basically. And...so drunk it didn't really mattah. I lost control, I guess. And things spiraled pretty quickly. I um - I drove drunk one night. After a show. And…" A deep, deep breath. She leaned forward, away from his comforting hand. "I ran over a child. A little girl on a bike. And...I drove off. Scared as hell. Drunk as hell. I left that child dead in the road. Or at least - I thought she was dead. She wasn't, thank God. But I didn't know that until many years later. I left a child…"

She stood up. Paced a little. Kit still didn't interrupt. He respected her need for space. "Then, I got fired from the band. Couldn't show up. I was a goddamn mess. Just a wreck. Literally." She chuffed. "I wrecked my car into a statue of St. Jude at what became my convent. I guess...just like I had thought Casey was the answer, I decided God was the answer. And - it was a way ta hide from my responsibility far what I thought was a murder. I look back now and think how stupid I was. Hell, if they'd wanted me far murder, they woulda found me, ya know? I shoulda been clued in somehow…"

She gripped the porch post, swung out over the step a little bit. There was something incredibly girlish about the gesture. The way her hair swung to cover her face. He was struck again by how simply...pretty she was.

"Soooo…." She came to lean on the post. "That is how Judy became Sister Jude. And I was doin' good there as a nun. I was quiet, and devoted. I was...stern. So I guess it made sense to my Mother Superior when the Church was lookin' for an administrator for their new pet project."

"Briarcliff." It was his first interruption.

"Biarcliff." Jude pointed at him affirmatively. "Mother Claudia called far me one afternoon and when I got ta her office…" She closed her eyes. "I met Timothy Howard." She bit her lip, chewed at it. Her brow creased and suddenly her hands became almost painfully animated, clenching or straining her fingers to express some difficult emotion. "And I went to work with him at Briarcliff. And I was...completely overwhelmed. Out of my element. Out of my depths entirely. But he had me so convinced, so convicted...that we were going ta make that hell hole into a virtuous, institution of great renown. We were gonna go ta Rome and he was gonna be Pope and I was gonna…" Suddenly her eyes opened. She paused. "Hell. I don't really know what the fuck I was gonna do. Mother Superior or somethin…" A dark laugh. She turned fully away from him again, stared out at the yard. "But it was all lies. All manipulations. He was damn good at that. Charming and -"

"Holy shit." His second interruption. And an epiphany.

She turned. "What?"

"It was him." Kit's mug joined hers on the railing. He stared at her agape. "Father Howard. He's the one. The one who...Jude?"

"What?"

"Did he...did he have an affair with you?"

"Oh, Kit." She rolled her head against the post. Eyes closed in memory. "No. There was no affair. I was the one. I was in love with him. Foolishly. Blindly. I woulda done anything far him and he knew that."

Kit stood. Came to lean beside her, not touching. "He used you."

"Oh, yes." She felt a tear sleek past her defenses. Ignored it. "And he murdered me, really. Judy Martin. He hid me away in solitary like a dirty secret and turned me inta -"

"Betty Drake."

"Mm-hm."

And there was so much more. Tons more. He could sense it. But he could sense her exhaustion. Her embarrassment. He could tell she was done. That the mystery's revelations were - for now - revealed in their fullest. "Damn, Jude…"

She turned to look at him finally, spread her arms in offer. "So. That's me. There's Judy Martin in all her radiant glory. Still want me in yar house?"

"I do." He answered firmly, needing her to understand.

Her arms fell. She folded in on herself a little. Wiped away a sticky tear with the side of her hand and again, glanced away from him. "What about...in yar bed?"

So quiet he could barely hear her. But he heard her. Pulled her cool chin to face him. "Yes. I want you there, too...Judy Martin." He slipped a hand around her waist, tugged her close.

"Kit…" She whispered. Her fingers fluttered over him until they settled over his shoulders. They kissed softly this time. Gently. Sweetly.

For about five seconds.

Then they were devouring each other on the front porch. He perched her on the railing, holding her steady while he licked and nipped at her neck. Her legs wrapping his waist drew a groan from him and he lifted her.

"Ah!"

"I can't fuck ya on the front porch, Judy. Not in the daylight anyway. Get the door."

"Yar a pragmatic young man."

"Not fer long."

Teamwork. She opened the door and he took them through it, kicking it closed behind them. He took her to her room and deposited her directly on the bed. He was already pulling off his shirt. "Undress," he directed. "Before the kids come back again."

Jude laughed openly this time, unbuttoning with shaky fingers while Kit bounced around foot to foot, removing jeans and socks. She toed off her slippers and wriggled out of her dress before folding her arms around her knees. There was a touch of shyness now, of uncertainty. She was very aware of her age suddenly, especially when she realized just how sinewy - how defined Kit's firm form was

On the other hand, Kit sling-shotted his underwear across the room before turning to her with an eager grin. "No, no, no." He climbed on the bed, taking hold of her arms. "None of this bullshit." He took hold of a long, tan leg. "You know what?"

"What?" A little yelp when he took hold of her panties, pulling.

He froze over her, caught her eyes. "Yer still a looker, Judy."

She blinked, took hold of his head, stilling him. "You think so, Kit?"

"Christ, let me show ya." Kissing hard, bodies pressed together, he managed to slip the silky barrier down her lean legs.

She rolled them, straddling the firmness of his slim straight hips. His hardness bobbed against her ass crack and she teased it, undulating as she unhooked and removed her bra. She looked away, dropping the lingerie over the bed edge. Kit sat up, holding her tight to him, and slid her face back to his. "Look at this goddamn body," he murmured, kissing her, caressing her. "Yer a fucking bombshell."

"Kit…" She gripped his arms, the thick muscle straining there. "You are, too. Oh, that feels good!" She bucked against the exploring fingers that slipped between them. This kiss was dirty, open-mouthed, biting as she stroked his cock - held it to guide it. She rose and he stopped her.

"I don't think yar ready fer that yet."

"Mm?" A gasp when he flipped her.

"Lemme get ya nice an' wet, Judy." He hissed in her ear, already sliding sinful lips down her neck. "Relax ya a little bit."

She flushed hotly at his words, at his mouth's quick progression. Stroked his shoulders on his way down. "Kit, ya don't have ta -"

"And what if I want to?" He placed a sweet nip on her pelvic bone, enjoying her reflexive thrust. "Besides, I'm not gonna last as long as I'd like. Not this time."

"This time…" She trailed off, brain shutting down when his mouth settled onto its goal. She hissed pleasure, fisting his thick curls. "Shit." Bit her lip. Tried to control her volume.

But her moans sounded painful even to his ears. "Tell me what ya need, Jude. Be loud fer me."

"Shhh, don't stop!" She gasped, pressing his head back to work. "And put yar fingers in me!"

He obeyed. Worked her diligently. Enjoyed every second. She was tart and salty - clean. She cursed and sweat, moaned and panted. Fucked his face shamelessly. And - sooner than he'd expected - she was tightening around the two fingers stroking that magical spot.

Her voice was thready, keening. "Oooohfuck, Kit, I think I'm -"

"Mm-hm." He pushed her a little harder. Sucked a little longer. She cracked like a crystal vase, body arching beautifully, one hand grabbing a peaked breast and the other shoving his head away, now too sensitive for his ministrations. He took that hand tenderly. Kissed her fingers, bringing her arm up with him as he licked his way back up her body.

He wanted most desperately to be inside her. His body ached to take, but he rested against her, enjoyed the last quakes in her thighs. Rubbed her hips and nuzzled her full breasts. She caught her breath after a moment, gazed down at him, eyes cat-slit. He smiled. "You look like the cat who got the cream, miss."

She pulled him in for a kiss, obviously unfazed by her own flavor on his lips. "I think you got the cream, sir." Husky and hoarse.

"It was sweet."

"Yar sweet." Her hips shifted, legs spreading and rising to welcome him. "Want me this way?"

"I want ya every way." But yes, this way was perfect for their first time. And yes, she was much wetter now. An easy glide with a rich, fulfilling gasp. He held her eyes even though his own were tempted to close in pleasure. "Judy, you feel...so damn good." His first thrust brought them both grunting.

She kept his gaze, as well. "You feel nice, too, baby. Real nice." A hip roll to meet him. "Mmmm, but maybe a little harder, huh? Far both of us."

He growled into her shoulder. "I don't wanna hurt ya." But truthfully he wanted to tear her apart with his lust. Rip her open and rut in the puddle.

"Nobody's hurtin' right now, Kit. Come on." She nipped at his earlobe. Wrapped devil legs around his waist. "Fuck me. Make me feel it."

"Ah, goddamnit!" His grip slipped over sweat to her shoulders, clutching tight. He buried his face in her neck, whimpering at the sensations and finally letting go. He slammed into her body, crashing until she cried out with every thrust. But she'd asked for this. And indeed, true to his prediction, he didn't last. Came inside her with a victory shout. And Jude held him close. Gritted her teeth against his shoulder.

His face was wet. He was pretty sure it was sweat. But not completely sure. Her fingers stroking his back and her lips caressing his jaw, his eyes which may have been producing some other kind of moisture. "Jude," he whispered. Kissed her cheek sweetly. Her nose. Her closed eyes. Her lips. Spoke against them. "I love you so much."

"Shhhhh." She rubbed clumsily at his wet face. "Kit. Baby." She nudged him til he rolled, bringing her against his side. Loath to separate. "Rest up."

"Jude -"

Her hand slipped over his mouth. "I said rest up." Her own eyes drooped, satisfied. "We're gonna go again."

He chewed his lip, quieting. If she didn't want to talk, so be it. He could be quiet. He could rest. And they could go again.

But Jude wasn't just quiet that night. She managed to completely avoid speaking of what they became. Never mentioned the word love. She let him hold her. Let him fuck her all manner of ways, albeit in private. Never did the children see an arm around her or a peck on a cheek. Rarely when the children were home did she grace his bed, or he hers. And if that did happen, it was in the greatest quietude, the stillest secrecy, the darkest dark. And always to a lonely sleep.

He didn't understand entirely. How they could be so happy all together. Dancing. Cooking. Playing their games. Dinners and walks and front porch talks. How they could be so happy just the two of them; after breakfast blowjobs, locked-bathroom door showers together, shuffling the children off to the Whaleys before shuffling to her bed, barely breathing for kissing, shedding clothes til buttons popped, sneaking into the treehouse at three in the morning for a growling tryst before she shushed him back to his bed, almost tucking him in like a child.

Yet any opportunity he took to broach the subject of them - she shut down. She used sex as a phenomenal distraction tool. Or she simply...swayed away. She sang. She cooked. She didn't talk - not about them.

So he finally left it. Simply languished in her affections, flighty as they were. Enjoyed her - with and without his children - when he could. And he hoped she enjoyed him, too. Hoped she was happy. Took for granted that she was because...they were.

And that's why that Tuesday afternoon was such a punch in the gut. That first little dribble of blood from her nose.

She'd brushed it off, initially. Leaned over the sink, somehow still laughing, waving Julia away when the girl clung - frightened - to her skirt. And it was as if they'd known - Thomas and Julia. As if that first blood opened a door of knowledge Kit couldn't quite breach. They'd looked at her differently after that day, while he'd taken Jude's approach: it was nothing.

Two weeks later, it was no longer nothing.

They were making love less quietly than usual, with Thomas and Julia off camping. He loved her that way, riding him, holding him close, hissing filth, nails practically piercing his scalp. Gave as good as he got. And mid-bite - mid-kiss - he'd tasted it.

Odd, the taste of someone else's blood. But immediately recognizable.

"Jude!" He'd grabbed her head, stilling her.

"What? What?" She searched his eyes, panting, sweating. "Kit. What?"

It looked black in the moonlight. Shiny. And there was a lot of it. "Jude…" He stroked her lip. Showed her the stain there.

She took hold of his hand. "Oh…"

"Jude. Maybe you should -"

"It's fine, Kit." She shifted. "I'll just clean up a little."

"Stop." He stilled her hips. "Jude. I'm worried."

"No, you stop! Yar givin' me a headache." She climbed off his lap impatiently, swatting hands away. "Probably my sinus." She bent to retrieve her robe. And when she stood, cinching the tie, she swayed. "Oh…"

"Jude!" He managed to catch her, half on and half off the bed. "Oh, Christ." There was more blood. A lot. It soaked the lapels of the light cotton robe. "Jude?" A soft moan in reply.

So they'd spent that night in the emergency room. Him pacing and her in the back. She'd not wanted him in the exam room. He tried to ignore the hurt attached. It was hours - morning - before he was invited back to see her.

A nurse showed him to a small, quiet room. Jude sat on the bed there, cleaned up and peaceful. Light from the surrounding x-rays gave her a blue tinted halo. But he was relieved to see her looking pleasant. "Hey!"

And she smiled. Smiled at him. "Hey."

The nurse left. He watched her go. Started to feel a touch of nervous. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She gestured. "C'mere."

"What?" He didn't like this at all. Very suddenly something dark and looming threatened. "What's wrong?"

"Kit. Just come here, please."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"How do you know something's -"

"I can tell!" He snapped at her. "What'd they say? Are you alright? Jude…" He rubbed at his face, pacing again.

"I have cancer."

Just words. Just words from lips he'd earlier been kissing. Words that fell like a stone into a well. Not so much a splash as an enveloping whoosh. He could hear his pulse in his ears. "Cancer." He stopped near her. Not close but near.

"Cancer."

"Like...cancer where?" He asked. He wouldn't be upset. Not yet. Doctors were curing cancer, after all. Certain types. He'd read it. Seen it on television.

"It's pushing into my brain." She pointed to an x-ray. "You can see it."

"Nah, I don't wanna see it." He waved off the images, but just as quickly turned to stare at them. In fact he really studied them. This could clearly be fixed. He didn't understand why she looked so serious sitting there on that bed with the crinkly paper. "So...are they gonna remove it? Do...surgery? You know radiation- "

"Kit."

"Fuckin' what, Jude?"

"Don't shout at me!" She snapped back. Sighed.

He sighed too. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm just tryin' ta process."

"It's in my blood now."

"Yar blood?" So what did that mean? "What does that mean?"

"It's gonna be quick now." She bit her lip.

That stone in the well somehow migrated to his stomach. He sat, heavy and numb, in a pink plastic chair. "What's gonna be quick?" A whisper.

"Kit…" Also a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry fer what?" He was already crying. "You're in my blood now, Jude. Is this gonna be quick fer me, too? Are ya sorry...fer leaving me? Is that what you're tryna say? Because that's what you're sayin' isn't it? That you're…" He couldn't speak the words. They tasted like iron in his throat. Maybe his nose was bleeding now, too. "Just say it," he choked.

She looked at the floor. Golden curls (that his fingers had earlier tangled impossibly) a curtain hiding tears. "I'm gonna die, Kit. This is gonna kill me. In a few months, they say."

Beside the pink plastic chair there was a pink plastic bin. Kit leaned over and puked in it.

He remembered bringing Jude home from Briarcliff. How sick she'd been. How fragile. Physically and mentally. It seemed so long ago, but so close now that he was doing it again. Now that she was sick in a different way. Some insidious way that he couldn't see. Couldn't divine. Sick with this invisible killer.

They'd made an executive decision to tell the children together. That honesty was the best policy. And that if Kit could insist they understand the birds and the bees, the differences between boys and girls, and the truth about dead squirrels, that he could help them understand dead women, too. That death came for people, too.

And how insouciant they'd seemed - almost for the benefit of the all too emotional adults. How they'd listened intently, nodding, processing. Understanding. Accepting. Julia - ever the empath - had already known, he was certain.

"We're going to miss you, Jude," she'd said so quietly. Her brown eyes wet. Kit would never forget the love on her face in that moment - that moment Jude took her hand. Pulled the girl into a hug.

Thomas was maybe not as accepting. Not as understanding. And Kit could relate. He'd chased the crying boy to the creek, caught him by the shirt. "Thomas! Stop, son." The ground was wet and cold beneath their knees. Thomas' face was wet and hot beneath Kit's fingers. "Thomas. It's okay to be sad."

"I'm mad, dad!" Thomas shouted. "I'm fuckin' mad!"

"Yeah." Kit could only hold the shaking, crying boy. "I am too."

Mad to see her taking it so well. To watch her move about the house as if nothing was happening. As if death wasn't brewing in her head. She even made her own arrangements. As if this happened every day - one's own end just another errand to run. And perhaps she'd known all along, he wondered. That her time with them was limited this way. Perhaps that's why she never spoke of love. Why she kept him at such a safe distance. Why she hid from the children what the children already knew.

Now. After the kids were asleep, they sat at the table together. Weeks since they'd touched. Kit sullen, and Jude sympathetic. She reached for his hand. "Kit. I don't wanna spend any more time talking about this. So I just wanna ask ya one last thing. Something I have ta ask."

"Yep." He nodded. Knowing.

"After...ya know...I need a place. Ta be buried." She cleared her throat. He looked at the ceiling. "There's a Martin family plot outside of Farmington. I can call -"

"I'd like ta have you here, Jude." Sudden heat in his shoulders crept into his face and made tears. Again. "On the property. So the kids can...and I can -" The sudden sob broke him and brought her from her chair. For the first time in weeks she took him in her arms. He pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her chest. "Christ, don't leave me, Jude!"

She stroked his head, pulled him by his hair to face her. "I won't, Kit. Not evah." She kissed him. Kept kissing him. Didn't stop him when he picked her up and took her to bed. Didn't stop him undressing her. Didn't shush him when he cried as he fucked her. Didn't tuck him into his own bed like a child. She held him that night. She let him cry. She cried with him.

They let go of something, and embraced something else.

He was falling asleep when he heard it. In fact, in retrospect, he may have even dreamed it. Her voice. Soft in the moonlight. "I love you, Kit. So much it hurts…"

She had good days and bad days. Days when she couldn't get out of bed and days when he couldn't keep up with her bustling about. It was as if she was trying to squeeze as much life as she could into the envelope she'd been handed. She did a pretty good job of it.

So when that last week crept in, and she bled almost constantly, and her head pounded, and her vision came and went, and she took the pills that made her woozy, they were...ready. Or not ready at all. They'd said good-bye a thousand times. And he knew no amount of praying would extend their time; she'd said so herself - God was ready for her soul.

And Kit hated Him for it.

And whoever it was who came to take her that day, Kit hated them, too.

But damned if she was alone. He'd held her hand. He'd watched death take her. He'd been surprised - awed - by how peaceful it was. By how warm the hand was that he still held. And when she'd whispered, "Kiss me," he did. Felt his children glide against him like angels, welcoming another angel to their fold.

There was a lovely, polished birch coffin but no funeral. And Kit left it closed. ("Far fuck's sake don't put my desiccated corpse on display far the whole world ta gawk at," she'd sniped.) The Whaleys had stopped by. Weeping. And Kit held it together. Thomas and Julia helped.

They'd even helped dig the hole. Kit, his children, two funeral workers, and Doug Whaley. And somehow he'd held it together through that, too.

It wasn't until they were putting her in it that he genuinely lost his shit. Climbed in there. Practically at first, to retrieve the thick bands for the funeral director. But after he'd handed them up, he put his hands flat on the polished wood and his forehead in between them. Wiped at the tears and snot that pooled. "Goddamn you. Ya said ya wouldn't leave me…"

"Daddy."

He looked up to see Julia smiling down. Thomas holding her hand. "What, baby?"

"She's not in there." They reached for him. "Come on up now." They pulled him out of the hole. Collapsed in a heap together. Julia held him the way Jude might have - stroking his head the way Jude might have. "We'll see her again soon. She said so. And she's always, always with us."

But he certainly missed the fuck out of her. Weeks of secret weeping. And a few more days when the headstone arrived. She'd insisted that it just say 'Judy Martin.' "So nobody builds a goddamn water treatment plant on top of me someday." But he'd added to it. So it read: Judy Martin: Loved and Was Loved.

Because she did.

And she was.

Love like hers - unforgotten - begat love again. Life went on. Amazing children grew into amazing adults. Kit re-married, found happiness again. Happiness with a woman who was confident, strong, and understanding. Understanding of the time he spent alone at the headstone in the backyard - of the time he spent there with his children. She understood the love that had prepared him for her own. Appreciated the teachings of a woman she'd never known. But that was Jude's legacy.

Jude's lessons. Patience and tolerance. Honesty and integrity. Respect and self-respect. Curses and dances. Sewing and cooking. Birds, bees, boys and girls. The truth about dead squirrels. Life and loss.

But above all: Love.